Ignite
by Kailey Hamilton
Summary: After the war in Ishval, Riza finds it difficult to adjust to having Roy Mustang as her superior. Roy Mustang, whom she shares a painful history with. But maybe she's not the only one struggling, and maybe, just maybe, they can make it through. Royai. Oneshot.


_Notes:_ _For once, I can't think of anything to say. Just enjoy :)_

* * *

 **Ignite**

"Officer Hawkeye, I need to ask you something."

That was the last thing Riza needed after such a day. It was getting later than ever. She was hungry, tired, and irritable... and now Lieutenant Colonel Mustang wanted to _talk_.

Not that Riza had many complaints about the month she'd been under his command, other than a few minor annoyances. He had to be reminded to keep up with his work, and he spent more time outside of the office than strictly necessary. But he didn't overwork her, he didn't force conversation on her, he was fair, polite, respectful. No. His general conduct wasn't the problem. The problem was that he was Roy Mustang, the Hero of Ishval. The problem was that he'd turned a whole district into ashes with the knowledge that she gave him. The problem was that it was her fault.

The problem was that she'd asked him to erase the secrets imprinted in her skin. Roy had done terrible things, this surely had to mean nothing. Riza had been wrong, so wrong. The acute, chilling pain of her burns had become inconsequential once she'd been forced to face the raw grief he'd tried to hold in, after it was all said and done. It came back to haunt her every time she looked at his dark eyes, shame crushing her under its steady grip, letting her know the war would never be over and every moment of her life was to be tinged by the memories of her wrongdoings.

Riza straightened her back, shoving her thoughts aside. _Not now. This is no good._

"What do you need, sir?"

Roy examined her silently, his expression stoic, piercing, intense. Even as he sat down behind his desk, and she stood before him, there was something invasive about such a glare. It took real energy not to look away, but Riza couldn't, she just couldn't let herself crumble. _Not now. Not now. I'll be home soon._

"Serving under my command is distressing for you." She caught her breath. Was it that obvious? "Do you wish to be transferred?"

"I'm sorry my feelings are interfering with my work, sir. This won't happen again."

"That's not it. I am pleased with your performance so far. But as your superior, I am directly responsible over your wellbeing, so if you are to remain under my command..." Roy sighed, his imposing tone dropping to a low murmur. "If you are to remain under my command, I don't want you to hate every second of it."

Riza did her best to ignore the chills going down her spine, raising her chin in defiance.

"If this is where my skills are needed, this is where I will stay. What I wish for is of no importance."

"I disagree. I... betrayed you, in the worst possible way. This is enough for you to request to be transferred, if it's affecting you so."

 _I turned you into a murderer_. _I gave you a weapon far more dangerous than anyone should ever handle. I forced you to bring harm to me against your will._

Riza could already hear his response. Yes, she'd been wrong. But Roy was the one who snapped his fingers and spread death through the warzone. Roy was the one who complied with her request. Just as she'd made the conscious choice to pull the trigger. Again, and again, and again. So the only possible answer was caught in her throat. She didn't even know what she wanted. She didn't care. And the silence asphyxiated her. Her determination was waning quickly enough for Roy to see the change, the oppressing despair taking hold of her features, and she knew this because his face mirrored hers.

"I have no right to ask for your trust and your forgiveness," he said. "But I deeply regret my actions and the pain they caused you. I can't bear the thought of you being here against your will."

It was plain in his face, that regret he spoke of, regret that consumed him from the inside and slowly drove him to insanity. How long had he been wanting to get this off his chest? Had this been as difficult for him as it had been for her? Had he also suffered in silence during a month, prisoner to the words that he didn't dare speak?

"I can say the same, sir. I wasn't fair to you."

"It's not the same. We both know it was the least—"

"Don't. Please... don't."

Riza was shaking her head, her voice louder than intended. She didn't want to hear it, the words she'd said, the idea she'd conveyed, _at the very least._ Tears welled up in her eyes and she hated herself for it, for she'd cried enough already over troubles that she'd brought upon herself, and this was no time and place to break down. There were matters that they needed to take care of first. So she gritted her teeth, breathed deep, wiped her eyes, and searched for his gaze. There was no way of describing the pained, compassionate look Roy was giving her, but it was clear that she couldn't let him utter another word on the subject. It would ruin them both.

"Sir," she said. Her voice sounded broken to her own ears. "Do you wish to have me transferred?"

"No. Not at all." Roy's answer was immediate. He must have sensed her skepticism, because he added, "You're a woman of extraordinary character and prodigious skill. It's a rare combination to come by, and I am going to need it."

"What for?"

Roy seemed to be caught off guard. It was an odd question, maybe, but that had also been an odd statement, as if her traits were nothing but assets. It hadn't even been a compliment.

"I suppose I should let you know." He leaned forward, his chin on top of his interlocked fingers, his eyes not once straying from hers. "I want to make it to the top, Officer. That is my goal. If only to ensure that something like the war in Ishval can never happen again. To have the whole nation under my protection, to change this broken system from the inside. As you said, those of us with blood in our hands should make sure that the next generation can live in peace. That's what I'm aiming for."

"You're aiming for the position of Fuhrer," was all she could say.

"Yes. And I cannot do this alone. Even if we never get that far, I have the feeling you and I could make a good team. We believe in the same things, and that's why we're still here."

Riza could see it in him, the same young man that was ready to fight, to die for his country, the same man who called himself naive for daring to dream and getting carried away. It had to be Roy Mustang, of all people, standing for a cause she wholeheartedly believed in. But it made sense. The lives Riza had taken had only made her more eager to build a better future, so it was only logical he was the same. There was no spark in his eyes when he spoke of his plans, but an air of acceptance and devotion, the air of a man who knew himself and what he was capable of. For better and for worse.

Roy Mustang, Fuhrer of Amestris. He definitely had the charm, the intelligence, the tenacity, the connections. And everything he was lacking, he saw in her.

"Officer Hawkeye," he interrupted her thoughts. "I want you to think about this thoroughly. Your duty right now is to be aware of your own limitations, and act accordingly. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. That's all, then." He got up and stretched, walking toward the door. She followed him by habit. "I didn't realize it was this late already. Let me invite you for dinner." He turned to face her, not giving her time to answer. "I don't mean—I just thought, it's late and we had a difficult week. I thought we could... for a change—"

"Sir, with all due respect, I don't believe you're foolish enough to ask me out on a date." She'd intended to ease his conscience but he gaped at her, taken aback, his mouth hanging slightly open from her interruption. So she might have been a bit too frank. "Dinner sounds nice, however. I'm quite hungry."

Roy grinned sheepishly. When they were younger, she would see that grin constantly, but it had been nowhere to be seen in the past few weeks. It made her feel at ease.

"I did take too much of your time, didn't I? Yet another reason to treat you to a good meal. I apologize."

They kept walking together, Riza falling behind. Roy was cheerful, a little _too_ cheerful, and she couldn't help but wonder if he would also break down once he found himself home alone. If that was the reason he'd invited her, just as she'd accepted, to ensure he'd be with company just another hour or two.

"There's no need to apologize," she assured him. "I appreciate your concern."

"I insist. Time is a valuable resource."

"Forgive my audacity, sir, but you didn't seem to think that way when you took a two-hour lunch break."

That wiped the smile off his face.

"I received a call from Central. An important call."

"How is Major Hughes doing?"

"Same as always. Miss Gracia said yes."

" _Important,_ I see."

"I'll send him your best regards."

"Congratulate him on my behalf, please. But not during office hours."

Roy didn't respond to that. Riza would've given anything to see his face, but he kept looking forward.

"I must confess, Officer Hawkeye, I'm going to have a hard time letting you go."

Riza's heart sped up. She could've fallen under the command of someone needlessly cruel who was proud of their war crimes. She could've been assigned to someone who didn't take her seriously and used their power to make her feel small. Roy Mustang was none of those things. He actively fought for their common beliefs. He was affording her a sort of consideration that could not be taken for granted. He was showing her faith.

 _You and I could make a good team._

Those were heavy words. And they weren't meant to influence Riza's behavior, but to answer her doubts. To let her know what she could be getting into, what she could be missing out on. To allow her to make a choice that better suited _her_ needs. A good team, he'd said. She felt a strange heat in her chest, something that ignited and injected new life into her worn out soul. If Roy had attained that, he'd more than made up for her limitations already. Just as she could make up for his.

A cool breeze welcomed them outside the Headquarters, and Riza took a second to let the it cool her down, bring her back to reality. She let the fresh air fill her with courage and strengthen the hope she held in her heart.

"Sir," she called out. Roy raised his head vaguely, the only sign that he was listening. "You won't have to let me go. You gave me the order to follow you. I will not disobey."

He took a few seconds to answer.

"Thank you, Officer." His voice was controlled, paused, clearly attempting to conceal emotion but Riza wasn't sure what. Or why.

"You shouldn't be thanking me for complying with basic commands."

To Riza's complete shock, Roy laughed. His face was suddenly bright, his glee genuine, and Riza wished she understood _what_ about her words had improved his mood so drastically. It was contagious, however. The sound of his laughter shoved all of her doubts aside. She ventured a soft, tentative smile, and when their eyes met, warm and candid, she just knew they were thinking the same thing.

 _We can get through this._


End file.
